


if you had to choose

by hambamthankyoumaam (Random13245)



Series: The Selection AU [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Angst and Humor, Aromantic Martha Laurens Ramsay, Drama, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Prince John Laurens, Romance, Selection AU, Yes there really are that many relationships im Sorry™, caste system, for no other reason than just because, its going to be a wild ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random13245/pseuds/hambamthankyoumaam
Summary: The Selection AU no one asked for. Based onThe SelectionSeries by Kiera Cass."“We need to boost morale, your Majesty.” One of the advisors said over a clipboard. “Citizens are not pleased with the current conditions.”When are they ever? Laurens asked himself. The caste system was meant to keep people in line, but it was making many restless. His father would not hear it, however, he felt there could be no flaws in the system.“And what do you suggest?”“Prince John is coming of age. A Selection is viable.”"





	1. Preferences

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend you read _The Selection_ by Kiera Cass, I'm not usually so into books surrounding a bunch of hetero romances, but I really enjoyed this series.
> 
> Here y'all go, this moves a lot faster than the original Selection series because I'm that kind of author.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morale & Hopes & Coming Out

“Jack.” His father’s voice snapped him into reality. “Are you listening at all?”

“Hm? Yeah, yes, sir.” John Laurens nodded to make the lie more convincing. “The tensions with New Asia are rising.” He parroted whatever it was he thought he last heard. It would be reasonable to assume, as their relationship with New Asia had always been rocky. His father nodded approvingly.

“We need to boost morale, your Majesty.” One of the advisors said over a clipboard. “Citizens are not pleased with the current conditions.”

 _When are they ever?_ Laurens asked himself. The caste system was meant to keep people in line, but it was making many restless. His father would not hear it, however, he felt there could be no flaws in the system.

“And what do you suggest?”

“Prince John is coming of age. A Selection is viable.”

Laurens felt his attentions tune to his name, and the word _Selection_. He knew what that entailed and everything about it seemed unappealing.

Thirty-six strange women would arrive at the castle. Women he wasn't particularly interested in. He'd long since realized his preference for the same gender, and though it wasn't looked upon as shamefully as it had once been- if he wasn't a royal, he could live as he pleased- he would be expected to produce an heir.

He thought he'd accepted such fate; marrying a blithe and polite lady and having children. But now, faced with the reality of it, he wasn't so sure anymore.

And not only all of that, but he would have to somehow choose amongst these women who he deems the most suitable life partner.

“...start the planning, break the announcement this evening, there's going to be a Selection.”

He must've zoned out, and a lot of conversation had passed. It was happening, though. His fate had truly been sealed.

* * *

“Alexander! Alexander did you hear?” Elizabeth Schuyler bounded up to Alexander that evening with a smile a million watts worth. He'd been roaming the evening market when she caught him.

“Hear what, Betsey?”

“There's going to be a Selection for the Prince.” She seemed strangely excited.

“Eliza, you're not even into guys.” Alexander pointed out, confused about her excitement.

“Oh, god, no. But I am into drama. And thirty six beautiful women being shown off.” She beamed. It was then that Alexander realized, the Prince was not the marriage candidate she had her eyes on. It wasn't exactly a secret, the Schuyler family was very rich- Twos- and the thirty five Selected who don't marry the Prince are high profile bachelorettes.

“Of course that's where your mind would go, Miss Schuyler.” He chuckled. “Not sure why you felt compelled to shout this at me?”

“Because, you've commented before about funding the Prince ‘boyishly cute’ and maybe you could get in.” She elbowed him playfully.

“Very funny, Lizzie.” Alexander said, hiding his slight blush by ducking his head away, pretending to examine the market. She saw right through him, though. He had not a penny to spare at this market, he simply enjoyed walking around. “You and I both know that the royal family had a bloodline to carry on. It may be fine for us,” he gestured around at the people around him, “to not be able to produce a child, but for a royal?” He shook his head.

“You're right… I hate it, but you're right.” Eliza sighed sadly.

“Besides, look at me, Elizabeth. I'm a Six. In what world would a prince want to even look at me? I'm a disaster.” Alexander motioned to his attire; plain work clothes covered in stains and dirt. Underneath, his lithe body, frail from a lack of meals, hardly held to the clothing.

“I do wish you'd take the meals I make for you…”

“Hush.”

* * *

“Father?” John asked quietly. He'd been summoned to his father’s study, presumably to discuss the upcoming Selection.

“Jack, come in, sit.” He obeyed. “Son, I'm sure you're nervous.” Laurens nodded, though his father wasn't looking at him, but rather the work on his table. “Don't be- it's not as dramatic as the television will make it seem.”

“Father?” He still hadn't caught his father gaze as it switched between various pieces of paper work. “What if…”

“You don't like any of them?” His father still hadn't looked up. “There will be thirty six, at least one will appeal to you.”

“No, it's not that.” Laurens bounced the words around in his head, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. His father had only begrudgingly allowed for regular citizens to entire same gendered unions. “What if… I would prefer…”

“Spit it out, boy!” His father was looking at him now, brow furrowed and seeming frustrated.

“Boys.” He sputtered. The room came to a freeze. Then, slowly, his father stood and walked out. John wasn't sure what to make of it, but watched as his father went.

He sat, because he had not been excused yet, and waited for about an hour. His father returned in similar silence to the way he had left. He settled slowly into his desk.

“The… advisors suggested a…” he motioned his hand tensely, “compromise.” Laurens perked up a bit. “Eighteen women, and… eighteen men.” He said through gritted teeth. “We _highly_ encourage you to pick one of the ladies.”

“But?” Laurens asked, sensing a give in that statement.

“ _But_ we cannot make that decision for you. You're dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” He stood and quickly left his father’s study before he could change his mind. Immediately he turned down the hall to where he knew the advisors stayed.

“John!” His favorite advisor, his sister, Martha, called out to him.

“Martha!” They ran together and hugged tightly.

“I did the best I could for you. Dad wasn't going to give in completely.”

“You're amazing, Martha. I think we’re both just so lucky that dad listens to you so closely.”

“He values my input as the princess.” She agreed. “I pointed out that a broader Selection would be even better for morale.” She paused “The others don't know, by the way. Henry Jr., Mary Eleanor, and James. They don't know, but I'd tell them before the media breaks the news of this… change.” He nodded.

“Thank you for warning me. How soon does the public learn of this?”

“Tomorrow morning on the morning Report.” She said definitely.

“Thank you again, Martha. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Jack.”


	2. World Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News & Paperwork & Selected

“Alexander! Alexander!” Eliza's voice rang through the afternoon. “Come over immediately, we _must_ talk!” He opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off, “Don't worry I won't be cutting into your work time, Father has some things that could use cleaning and we can pay you for the time.” She said, clearly knowing exactly what he was going to say, “But we _must_ talk.”

“Alright, let's go then. Walk and talk, darling.” He extended an arm for her to take and walk like the proper lady she was. He hated that he couldn't treat her to the high caliber she was bred to since he looked so messy. So, he tried his best in the little things, like offering an arm for her to take.

“So, the Selection is going to be different this time around.”

“How so?” He frowned, furrowing his brow and trying to think about what could be different.

“It's going to eighteen women-” She paused, and Alexander assumed that was it.

“Is that all? That's not all the huge.”

“-and eighteen men.” He nearly tripped over his own shock.

“Men?” He asked, disbelieving.

“Yes!” She beamed. “You have a chance, Alexander.” She lead him into her house, and showed him to the kitchen wherein a few things needed cleaning and organizing, typical work of a Six.

“Bullshit. Even if I do get Selected, there's no way the Prince would marry a Six.” He got started on the work, his status even more obvious.

“But if you get Selected, that's all you need for a shot at a better life, Alexander.” She hopped up to sit upon the counter, her beautiful, fluffy dress flying up and puffing out air as it settled back onto her legs.

“I'm not optimistic, Eliza.”

“Please, Alexander, it does no harm to enter.” She persisted. He sighed.

“Fine, for you, dearest Betsey.”

In the next week, the local offices opened up to all eligible persons to apply to the Selection. Alexander found himself shifting awkwardly amidst the line of beautiful, soft women and handsome, rugged men. He estimated them all to be at least Fours, or better. He looked even more like a Six surrounded by them. It was clear everyone had made themselves look as presentable as their caste would allow. Alexander’s didn't allow much at all.

He turned in his papers, which were his only saving grace. On paper, he was a model choice- if you ignored the caste number. He was smart- knew three languages other than English (he left out that his native language was Creole French). He had more education than most Sixes, but that still wasn't as much as Twos, Threes, and Fours. His connection to the Schuyler family was also something he had going for him.

After waiting in the line for over an hour- an hour he could have been working, he reminded himself- he finally made it to the office. They took his papers and snapped a quick picture of him and ushered him on. The workers there couldn't be bothered to judge anyone as they had to move quickly though everyone.

He fled the office and went straight to the Schuyler residence. Eliza, who must've been waiting by the door for Alexander, answered as soon as he knocked.

“How'd it go? Tell me all about it.” She sat him down and made him relay the entire ordeal to her while she listened dreamily.

“I really think you've got a chance, Alexander.”

* * *

“All the candidates are in, John!” Martha called out, carrying heaps of paper. “Come look!” She waved him into her work room. She set the pile of paper down next to several other piles. “These are the men,” she waved a hand at a certain set of papers, “and these are women.”

He picked up a few applications idly. A proper young lady here, a seasoned gentleman there. He found himself mostly bored with their appearances and their written applications didn't add much to their personality. It had taken a total of two full weeks to gather all the applications.

A few caught his eye- a couple girls who seemed like they'd make perfect friends and possibly be fake-picks to please his father (with their permission and full knowledge, of course). As well, a few boys too.

He started to narrow people down, picking based on both appearance and what personality could be derived from the paper application. In the end, the list of men ended up being significantly easier to pick than the women. He and Martha sat whittling down both lists the whole day until finally they had their list, ready to be announced. The lists were passed on to the people who handled public relations and the next evening, everyone gathered around their televisions to watch the dramatic announcement.

* * *

 “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the evening Report! Tonight, a very important time for our country as our Prince John hunts for a suitable partner.” The television in the Schuyler house was lit up with the Report.

Alexander found himself sandwiched between Eliza and her younger sister Peggy. Eliza had her arms thrown around Alexander’s neck in anticipation. He found it hard to deny being a bit excited as well.

“First: our list of lovely ladies! Miss Catherine Livingston, Three! Miss Martha Manning, Two! Miss Maria Lewis, Six! Miss Sybil Ludington, Four! Miss Nancy Hart, Three! Miss Esther Reed, Five! Miss Penelope Barker, Three! Miss Deborah Samson, Three! Miss Emily Geiger, Four! Miss Anna Smith, Two! Miss Lydia Darragh, Three! Miss Margaret Corbin, Four! Miss Catherine Moore, Two! Miss Lucy Flucker, Three! Miss Mary Ball, Three! Miss Martha Curtis, Three! Miss Abigail Smith, Five! Aaaaaaaand Miss Peggy Shippen, Three!” A loud roar of applause rang out for the women Selected. Alexander noted that no one below a Six had been Selected, and even then only one Six was chosen. It felt almost like an obligatory pick.

“And now, our dashing gentlemen! Mister Francis Kinloch, Two! Mister Thomas Paine, Four! Mister Nathan Hale, Five! Mister Aaron Burr, Three! Mister Paul Revere, Four! Mister Alexander Hamilton, Six!”

The world came to a stop. The announcer continued to list the men, but Alexander’s ears were ringing. Eliza was screaming with joy, bouncing up and down and swinging him around. He thought he was bouncing and screaming, too, but he wasn't sure with how hazy everything felt.

He'd been Selected. Everything changed from here on out, and he was ready to be a whole new man.


	3. Figuring It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rules & Arrivals & Awkward Introductions & Makeovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gently sets chapter down,, here y'all go

“Mister Alexander,” a formal looking man had knocked on his apartment door, “I am here to brief you on the Selection and escort you to the airport wherein you will meet with a few other Selected who live nearby.” The man gave Alexander a once over, looking a tad judgemental. He did look, in all fairness, like a total mess.

“Oh!” Alexander took a moment to register the judgemental glance along with the statement. He stepped out the doorway, allowing him entrance to the small rundown apartment. “Uh, please, sit.” He gestured to his singular table, an old wooden one with a cooked leg duct taped in an attempt to save it. He couldn't afford a new one. He let the official take the nicer chair- the one that didn't creak with every shift.

“Firstly, you are still bound to all of our country’s laws.” Alexander nodded. “You are from this point on a Three.” If he looked shocked, the official ignored it and kept going, “You cannot leave the palace without permission. The only person who can dismiss you from the Selection is the Prince, no other official has that power. Not even the King. He is also the only person you should be engaging in a romantic relationship with. You're not expected to get along with the other Selected, but any physical assault or sabotage will be brought immediately to the Prince and it is his choice from there. If you make it to the top ten, you will be considered an Elite. If you should win, obviously, you will become prince-consort. And lastly, there is no time limit to the Selection, it is unknown how long it could take. Do you understand?”

Awe-struck, Alexander simply nodded.

“I need you to sign this to confirm you have been informed of these rules.” He passed a paper and a pen in his direction and Alexander quickly did so.

“Now, pack your things- only essentials. Clothing, food, and all necessities will be provided. You're permitted to bring one bag of personal belongings. Keepsakes, tokens, postcards, whatever you wish.”

* * *

 The palace was bustling. Maid, butlers, advisors, everyone was rushing around getting things into order for the Selection.

“They arrive today.” Martha said with a beaming smile to John as they maneuvered around the busy hallways.

“Yes, I know, Martha.” Laurens smiled at her excitement. It was almost contagious. He was excited in a sense, but mostly nervous. Thirty six strangers were about to arrive and take over his time.

The first plane arrived about an hour later, with six girls and four boys. He went to greet them, at the urging of his sister.

“Miss Peggy, hello.” He greeted lightly. Peggy Shippen curtsied quickly, a bit ungracefully, and he took her hand and kissed it. “Charmed.”

“Your Highness.” She greeted.

Next came one of the boys who had _definitely_ caught Laurens’s eye. “Mister Francis,” he greeted, to which Francis Kinloch bowed expertly. Tentatively, John took Francis’s hand and kissed it as he had done to Peggy.

“Your Highness,” he smiled, and god was he handsome, “please, call me Kinloch.”

“Charmed, dear Kinloch.” Laurens smiled. After a few more stiff introductions to the remaining eight Selected, another plane had arrived, with ten more Selected to greet. By the time the last plane- only holding five- arrived, he was exhausted with greetings.

“Mister Alexander,” Laurens lightened a bit at the sight of one of the boys he had picked out first. He kissed his hand. “Charmed.”

“Uh, yeah, yes, nice to meet you. Your Highness.” He messily bowed and smiled. Laurens remembered he was a Six, and probably didn't have the manners some of the upper caste Selected did. He tried to give Alexander a reassuring smile before he was ushered off and another Selected was brought to him.

* * *

 Not two seconds after his messy introduction to the Prince, he was thrust into a chaotic situation. There were teams of stylists rushing around, moving frantically.

“Ah!” A woman approached them, “you must be the last round. Come, come.” She moved them through and quickly sorted them. “Mister Alexander, you'll be here,” she very nearly shoved him into one of the chairs in front of a mirror. “Miss Sybil, over here.” She kept pacing down the line filling in certain stations.

“Hello.” A stylish man, with hair in a perfect swooping form, approached, spinning the chair without warning. “I'm your stylist today.” Alexander felt his heart jump up into his throat as he was spun. “Let's start with this hair, it seems like you could use a cut.”

“No.” He managed to choke out, feeling a sudden flush of nerves.

“No? It's quite long…” The stylist sounded doubtful.

“I like it long.” Alexander insisted. The stylist frowned.

“Well, it’s messy, so we’ll wash and trim it.” Alexander did not miss the slight jab at his own cleanliness. He bristled.

After his hair was cleaned and then trimmed- he made sure it was only slightly trimmed- he was spun around again and the stylist seemed to be investigating his face.

“Hm…” The stylist rubbed the stubble on Alexander’s chin, “this should go.” And since Alexander didn't have any protests, the stylist brought over the necessary supplies. He cleaned up the messy start to a beard that Alexander couldn't grow anyway.

“You're done!” The stylist announced after giving Alexander one more examination.

Alexander stood, slightly wobbly on his legs which must've been bent for a lot longer than he had anticipated.

The woman who'd divided them amongst their respective stylists then came to direct him, along with the others who were on his plane, to their rooms.

“You each have two or three maids or butlers. They are at your disposal for anything you may need.”

Alexander felt a pang of something deep in his stomach. Maids and butlers were Sixes, just like him, and he didn't like the way she'd said _‘at your disposal’_.

When he went into his room, he was greeted with who he assumed were his butlers. They introduced themselves: Hercules and Lafayette. He tried to smile at them, but couldn't shake the thought that they were Sixes just like him, yet here they were serving him. He felt a rush of discomfort and quickly but politely dismissed them before collapsing onto the bed.

The bed sheets must've been the softest thing he'd ever felt. His own mattress at home was lumpy, and his sheets had their fair share of holes. It was almost heavenly to lay amongst downy sheets.


	4. Finding Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubts & Solidarity & Help & Picking Favorites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written quite a bit ahead (I'm midway through writing chapter 7 atm) and I've been keeping a steady pace on writing, so hopefully I'll continue to get a chapter a day (but probably not)

“It's insane, Eliza. I thought _your_ house was huge and, well, extra. There's _so many rooms_ , who needs this many rooms?”

“Alexander, they need those rooms for you guys.” Eliza's voice scratched through the phone. “How are you doing?”

“I don't know.” He said honestly. “This is… so much, Eliza. I have people constantly waiting on me, I have butlers, Eliza. It's weird. You should see the others, I'm dirt compared to them. I don't think I want this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fame, money. I guess I didn't realize before now that I like being in the background. To a certain extent, ya know?” He sighed. “It's just… it's obvious that I'm a Six and everyone around me is at least a Three, maybe a Four. I'm not built for this kinda life, Lizzie.”

“Alexander Hamilton you made it there and you're going to chase _something_ , for god’s sake. I understand you're nervous, but you're a fighter, find something to fight for.”

_Find something to fight for_. “Thanks, Eliza. I'll call you later, the Selected are all meeting each other in the parlor.”

“To get to know each other or to size up the competition?”

“Both. Bye, Liz.”

“Goodbye, Alexander.”

The parlor was bustling. It looked at the moment to have about twenty of the Selected all milling around, talking to each other. Alexander melted into the crowd.

“You're Alexander Hamilton, right?” A beautiful woman who, though she looked elegant in the palace dress, looked gaunt. “I'm Maria Lewis. We’re the only Sixes here, so I figured…” She shrugged.

“Solidarity.” He agreed. “There's not many below a Four, we oughta stick together.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“How did your family react?” Maria mumbled. She seemed hesitant to ask. Sixes valued their family deeply, they depended on each other for survival. Alexander could still hear the cries of a mother, a Six, whose son had been drafted. He was the main provider for the family.

“Don't have any.” He muttered. “I was an illegitimate, I worked and wrote until I made to at least a Six status.” He shrugged, dumping his life story out like nothing.

“Oh.” Maria looked a bit shocked. “My family… they didn't know I had applied, they practically already have me engaged to this Three who agreed to buy me, like a slave. Like he couldn't get a wife any other way.” She seemed thoroughly disgusted. “They didn't want me to enter- kept saying that my ‘ _fiancé_ ’ was waiting for me- so I did it without them knowing. I didn't think it would change anything. Imagine their shock- and mine- when I get Selected.” She was smiling now, and Alexander could see that same glimmer of hope that lied in the eyes of the lower caste Selected. A chance to rise up. “Have you talked to anyone else yet?”

“No, you're the first person to approach me.” Alexander admitted.

“Oh, come, I'll introduce you. I don't know much about the guys, but most of the girls are sweethearts.” Maria paused, “ _Most_.” She emphasized and smiled. “Sybil! Come meet Mister Alexander.” She called out to a figure in the crowd and then turned to Alexander, “You’ll love Sybil, she's a Four but she's got a fighter’s spirit.”

* * *

 “So? Who do you like so far?” Martha said excitedly. The first day had finally passed.

“I've only just met them.” John pointed out.

“Aw, c’mon, you've gotta have a few favorites already.” She prodded lightly.

“Well… Kinloch is quite handsome, and gentlemanly. André is charming, but a bit… I don't know, he's missing _something_ in the head. Thomas Jefferson obviously comes a very influential family and he's not unattractive. And the Six, Alexander Hamilton, he's… he seems interesting.”

“They're all quite handsome, don't you think?” Martha said, picturing the lot.

“Yes.” John agreed with a small nod.

“You don't seem very interested.”

“I don't know… I'm nervous, I guess.” He shrugged. “I know father is going to want me to pick one of the ladies, but…”

“You're not interested.” Martha filled in.

“Yeah, yeah.” John nodded quietly.

“You should start working on asking some of them out and sending some of them home. Talk to some of the girls and see if they're okay to be decoys, ya know?”

“Yeah, definitely. Who should I ask out first, though? They're going to take that as significant.” He said.

“Hmm… Kinloch. You like him and he's from an affluent family of Twos. People will like that choice.” Martha said decisively.

“You're always so smart, Martha.” John smiled at her. “I'll go see Kinloch now.”

“Good luck!”

* * *

 “Did you hear?” Maria leaned over to Alexander that afternoon in the parlor. He felt distinctly like he was back home listening to Eliza.

“Hear what?”

“The Prince took Francis on the first date of the Selection.” Maria sighed. “That's important, you know, he's already picking favorites, see?”

“Oh. I guess I'm not in the competition mindset yet.” He shrugged. It was true, it wasn't that he wasn't a competitive person, but something about this had felt relaxed until Maria mentioned picking favorites.

“They're going to start training us, too, did you know that? They give us etiquette lessons.” She sighed, picking up a stray magazine off the coffee table and sat back down at the couch.

“That makes sense.” Alexander mumbled, “One of us is going to be a royal. We need to know how to behave.” He was joking, but only slightly.

Sybil came and joined them on the couch with a flourish. “He doesn't like me. I've got no chance.” She sighed, sinking into the couch cushions.

“How could you know? He's gone on one date!” Alexander said, feeling the urge to raise Sybil’s spirits.

“Can't you tell, dumbass? He's not into any of the women.” Sybil said sharply.

Alexander bristled. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Kind of. There's eighteen of us here and it's clear he's not interested. Why bring us if he's not interested?” Sybil sighed, looking around the room at her fellow ladies.

“Maybe he is and he just hasn't taken a particular liking to any of us women yet.” Maria suggested, wanting to hold some kind of hope, though she wouldn't be surprised. “Sexuality isn't all black and white, Sybil.”

“Oh, believe me, I know that. But he just doesn't seem… into the women.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe.” Alexander shrugged back.


	5. Fake Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date & Ettiquite & Out & Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it too cliche to say I'm posting this from coffee shop wifi?
> 
> also dontcha just love how i said "oh I'll be able to keep up a chapter a day" and literally right after that fell off? yeeeaahh

“Mister Kinloch.”

“Ah, Your Highness. How can I be of service?” Kinloch smiled a welcoming, bright smile.

“I was wondering if you'd like to come on a walk with me through the gardens?” John asked as he extended an arm. Kinloch took it with another blinding smile.

“I'd be honored, Your Highness.” And so they walked. John felt a bit powerful with someone on his arm.

“What's your family like, dear Kinloch?” John grasped for conversation.

“Ah, rather typical, I suppose.” He turned and smiled at Laurens. “My mother was a model, my father acts. I have an older sister and a younger brother.”

“The middle child, eh?” John joked lightly.

“Ha, yes.” Kinloch laughed. “What about your family?”

“Everyone knows my family.” John sighed.

“I mean… I know _of_ your siblings, but what are they like?” Kinloch looked at him with such genuine interest.

He could fall for those eyes, and that look. He had to shake himself out of it, “Martha is more of a trusted advisor than the Princess. She's headstrong. Henry Jr. is mostly quiet. James is a tough kid, kind of sickly, but he's… he's strong.” He paused. “And Mary Eleanor is young, and a ball of energy.”

“You love them a lot.” Kinloch observed.

“Yes.” He nodded, smiling at how easily read he was by Kinloch. He could learn to live with this, he realized.

* * *

“The first thing you will be taught to understand here is table manners.” The stiff, formal teacher- Alexander had mentally dubbed her Miss Manners- addressed the Selected. “Not all of you come from such highly bred families.” Alexander frowned, and so did Maria.

“Rich people.” She mouthed to him, and he had to stifle a small laugh.

“Firstly, you must know how to set a table.” She paced around them in the parlor, circling the table. “Plates go here.” She placed a plate down right in the center of the place mat. “Salad fork goes here,” she set one small fork down on the left of the plate, “dinner fork here,” a slightly larger fork was placed just to the right of the salad fork.

“Who needs so many forks?” Maria whispered to Alexander.

“Rich people.” This time they both laughed, earning them a sharp glare from Miss Manners, who otherwise ignore the interruption.

“The dinner knife goes here,” to the right of the plate, “the tea spoon here,” to the right of the knife, “and the soup spoon here,” to the right of the tea spoon. “Now, fold a napkin,” she passed napkins out to each one of them. “The napkin goes over the plate like this. The final touch is the glasses. The wine glass is to be placed here, and then the water glass.” She turned back to them expectantly. “Let me see your napkins.”

They each held out their folded napkins, some better than others.

“Mister Hamilton, Miss Lewis.” Miss Manners glared daggers at their poorly folded napkins. “Please redo your napkins. Look at Miss Ludington’s napkin, the creases are perfect.”

Sybil exchanged a look of sympathy with Maria before both Alexander and Maria undid their napkins and started over.

“There, much better.” Miss Manners turned to the whole group. “Now, everyone make a place setting.”

Maria and Alexander set up next to each other, glancing between each other's place settings and the original model one. Miss Manners made her way up and down the table, examining the place settings and how they'd been ordered. Alexander frowned as she shuffled his setting, moving the glasses ever so slightly.

He felt a surge of frustration as she appraised each setting, seeming to single out the lower caste Selected for not placing things quite right.

* * *

“Miss Sybil, hello!” John called out with a wave.

“Ah, your Highness, hello.” Sybil curtsied.

“Would you like to accompany me to the gardens?” He extended an arm. She took it with a smile.

“I would love to, your Highness.” She hooked her arm into his respectfully.

Once they were in the gardens, Laurens started talking. “Sybil, I feel you've noticed something.”

“What do you mean, your Highness?” She sounded a tad bit nervous. He laughed.

“Nothing you're in trouble for, I assure you.” He smiled, trying to ease the tension. “I feel you've noticed my particular… _inclinations_ , if you will.”

“Oh.” She said, realizing what he was saying.

“There will be an elimination soon.” He mumbled, more to himself. “I need you to understand, my father wishes for me to pick one of the ladies.” Sybil frowned. “If you would be willing, I’d like to keep you in the Selection, but not as an actual potential marriage candidate.”

“I'm not sure I'm following, your Highness.” She admitted.

“As a friend, of sorts. I need my father to believe, up until the last moment, that I will choose one of the ladies. If you're willing, I would like to keep you here to convince my father of that.”

“ _Oh._ ” She mumbled. “Um, yes.” She decided with a nod.

“Wonderful. Do you know of any other ladies who might also be willing to help?” He turned to her with a look of worry.

“Miss Maria is very forgiving and friendly. Miss Martha- Manning- is quiet, but she seems good.” Sybil suggested. John nodded, taking in this information.

“Thank you, Miss Sybil. I will see you at dinner tonight.” He took her hand and kissed it as a dismissal.

* * *

 “Ladies and gentlemen.” The Prince addressed the table of Selected after dinner. “I haven't yet had the pleasure of talking to each of you one-on-one, so if you'd be so patient, I would like to do just that. Starting with Miss Martha Manning.”

In a rush, Martha stood from the table and approached the Prince. They sat down, facing away from the others, at a private table.

Alexander watched as various Selected were brought up to talk, until it was his turn. Feeling a suddenly flush of nerves, he took a moment before standing from his chair and approaching the Prince.


	6. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting & Shallow & Sixes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s o tech week is upon us, and my time is being consumed by musical practice. If you've ever been in a musical, you know why we call it hell week instead of tech week. This year, because we have a new director, we're having t w o tech weeks, so sorry if updates are spotty at best for the next couple of weeks.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.

“Hello, Mister Alexander.” The Prince smiled as Alexander approached the private table.

“Hello, your Highness.” Alexander messily bowed. It was almost charming, and the Prince had to hold back a slight laugh.

“I'm trying my best to get to know everyone here, so forgive me if I ask the most generic questions.” The Prince said, only joking a little bit.

“I wouldn't expect any less.”

The Prince laughed. “You've got a sense of humor. I like that.” Alexander tried to hide how clearly his face flushed at that. “Tell me about yourself, your family, your hobbies?”

“Uh,” he wrung he fingers, “I'm a Six, so hobbies are kind of out of the question. I work. And I don't… have any family.” He stumbled over his words, recalling how easily he'd told Maria these things. Of course, Maria was also a Six, she understood. The Prince was a One.

“You seem tense.” The Prince reached out to touch Alexander’s hand tenderly, but he flinched and so the Prince withdrew.

“Ah, sorry, I just…” How did he explain what he was feeling? How did he articulate the extreme culture shock, the unsettling feeling inside this palace? “This whole thing is just… so different.”

“Do you not like it?” He shifted nervously, and Alexander saw past the royal façade for a split moment.

“I don't know.” He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating the designs. “You have decor on the _ceiling_.” He observed out loud, a nervous giggle working its way up.

“It is quite silly, isn't it?” The Prince smiled at him warmly, not at all bothered by his antics.

“As nice as this place is… and the _food_ is fantastic…”

“But?”

“I'm drowning here.” He said, suddenly finding the perfectly poetic means of expressing how he felt. “I don't belong here.” He shifted in his seat, feeling unbelievably uncomfortable in that moment.

“Do you wish to go home?” The tone of the Prince’s voice said _don't go_ , and Alexander found himself surprised by the slight desperation.

“I… don't think so, no.” He didn't quite know how to answer the question.

“Well… I apologize for cutting this short, but I must meet the others.” He seemed genuinely apologetic. “I will come by your room and arrange a date at a later time.”

“Oh- okay, yeah, um, goodbye, your Highness.” He bowed again and hurried back to the table.

“How'd it go?” Maria asked before he had even sat down.

“I'm a mess, but I know he would never pick me anyway.” Alexander said with a shake of his head as he settled into his chair.

“What do you mean?” Maria frowned.

“I'm a Six, it's no secret.” He shrugged. “I made it clear just now how unfit for this I am.”

“It's a miracle you Sixes made it in in the first place…” A Two, Thomas Jefferson, sniped. “It's no bother, I suppose. Less competition for us.”

Alexander felt the urge to fly across the table and nail Thomas right square in the nose. Maria grabbed his arm, noticing how he tensed up.

“Don't give him the satisfaction.” She mumbled. Alexander forced himself to relax.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Prince spoke to the table of Selected after talking to each of them “I've had the pleasure of meeting you all at least once as of now, and feel it is best to begin the Selection process.”

A rush of nerves shot down the table of Selected. Alexander turned to Maria and and they linked hands.

“I would like to see the following: Miss Martha Curtis, Miss Lucy Flucker, Miss Nancy Hart, Mister Thomas Paine, and Mister Paul Revere.” The handful who'd been called for stood and followed the Prince into a separate room.

“Do you think they're being sent home?” Maria mumbled to Alexander- they weren't supposed to talk at the table.

“I don't know.”

“Wonder what they did wrong.” One of the others, Aaron, muttered.

“They're all rather unattractive.” Thomas said, a hint of bragging to his tone.

“Hush, I'm sure he's not that shallow.” Maria chastised.

“How could you know? You're a _Six_.” He spat.

Alexander, for all he wanted to also fling himself across the table and punch Thomas, put out an arm and held Maria down as she jumped up slightly.

“Don't give him the satisfaction.” He mumbled, echoing her own words. Maria sighed and settled back down with a quiet huff.

* * *

 “I can't do this, Martha. I have to send _thirty-five_ people home. One girl burst into tears! I can't do it.”

Martha laughed, unsympathetic. “You have to do it.”

“I know!” He cried out in a distraught tone. “And one of the ones I like doesn't even seem to want to _be_ here.”

“Who?” She leaned forward on his bed where she'd been sitting on her legs.

“Alexander. He's a Six, and I think this,” he gestured around his grand room, “is too much for him.”

“I mean,” she sighed, “I want to encourage you to choose based on love, but influence is really important. Whether you like him or not, he's not part of an important family. And if he doesn't want this,” she repeated his gesture, “then really that works out, doesn't it?”

He frowned deeply. “I hate that that makes sense. But I asked, and he didn't want me to send him home. I'm glad, he interests me.”

“Try going on dates with some of the others. How do you feel about Thomas?” She asked. “He's got strong political influence. Always a good aspect.”

“He's fine, quite charming one-on-one.”

“Then try him.” Martha shrugged.

“I already made plans to take Alexander on a date.” John admitted quietly.

“John…” Martha’s tone was warning. “Don't go falling for someone who might not want you in the end.”

“I know, Martha…” He sighed, flopping his face into one of his pillows.

“What about Kinloch? You've already had a private date with him, but is he not a viable option?” Martha tried suggesting.

“He's a very viable option. I like him a lot.” John said into the pillow.

“Well, there you go. He wants to be here, he seems nice, you like him. Hold onto that one.” Martha toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You need a haircut…” She muttered, before continuing, “Hold onto Alexander, too, but don't get too attached.”


	7. Relating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butlers & Sisters & Sexuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so today is opening night for the musical I am in! In celebration here's a new chapter & quick update about this fic in general. I am still working on this, I promise, but my time & energy has been so limited lately. Sorry for the somewhat long wait for this update. I love y'all!

“The Prince came by, you know.” Lafayette gushed to Alexander the next evening.

“Oh, Laf, hush.” Hercules scolded. “He simply stopped to arrange a date.”

“We need to have a new outfit ready!” Lafayette cried out. They bounced the conversation back and forth so fast, Alexander didn't have the chance to get a word in.

“I'm already working on one.” Hercules muttered.

“Do I really need a whole new outfit for this?” Alexander asked, his brow furrowing. They seemed startled to hear him, as if they forgot he was there.

“Of _course_ you do!” Lafayette insisted, like it was silly to suggest otherwise. “You can't go about wearing the same outfits everyday! Not when you're part of the Selection.” He said, insecurely pulling on his own shirt, which was a bit worn out and not nearly as fancy as any of the clothing they'd sewn for Alexander.

“Oh, duh, excuse me for my foolishness!” Alexander pretended to faint with embarrassment. He earned a few giggles for his theatrics and he smiled.

“You guys are Sixes, right?” Alexander said, feeling a sudden urge of _something_. Reckless curiosity?

“Um, yeah…?” Hercules mumbled as he folded some cloth over a table in the room.

“Sorry.” Alexander said suddenly. “I just… it unnerves me, being a Six myself.”

“You're a Three now.” Lafayette pointed out.

“I'm a Six.” Alexander stated. “No matter how much I'm dressed up, I'm a Six. Two steps up from desolate… It's who I am.” They were both looking at him now, with slight shock. He understood their slight confusion; who would _want_ to claim such a title? “Sorry. I'm talking absolute nonsense.”

“I get what you're trying to say.” Hercules said quietly. “Just because you're now labeled a Three, you'll never shake the attitude of a Six.”

“Yes!” Alexander pounded on the opportunity to be understood. “I've always been about rising up from circumstances, but this doesn't feel like truly… putting forth an effort to rise up. I'm a Six who's suddenly being served by Sixes.” He sighed, sitting down on the soft bed and flopping back onto it with a flourish. “I don't want to be a One.”

“Why did you sign up for the Selection?” Lafayette asked. And though it was an invasive question, it was clear that he meant no harm.

“My friend, Eliza. She really wanted me to, and I can't say no to her.” Alexander admitted.

“Do you love her?” The question came out of left field, though it shouldn't have really surprised him. It wouldn't be the first time someone had accused his and Eliza’s feelings of going beyond platonic.

“Like a sister.” He answered. “She's a Two, and has always tried to take care of me. No matter how much her parents protested- she wanted to help that hungry kid on the streets.” He recalled young Eliza's gusto fondly.

“She sounds wonderful.” Lafayette said, with a bit of a dreamy tone. It was a dreamy situation, to be fair. A lady and the tramp esque story.

“She is. We've gotten off track, when is the Prince apparently coming by?” Alexander said, suddenly reminded of the original start to the conversation.

“Oh! Tomorrow afternoon. He wishes to take you to lunch somewhere, he wouldn't specify. I think he's trying to surprise you.” Lafayette said with a sly smirk.

“Oh.” Alexander felt a bit confused by this; he had little experience with romance- he'd dated a neighboring girl for a brief time, but nothing too significant. The dating pool amongst Sixes was limited, as no one from upper castes would even spare them a second glance.

He thought of Maria, an absolutely gorgeous young woman trapped by the label of Six. No matter how beautiful she was she didn't have the chance to marry for love as women of upper castes did. She was being _sold_ into a marriage. And her family probably did the money… He couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious fiancé of hers, a Three, of all castes. He must be a truly awful person if he can't, as an upper caste, court someone from his own caste.

* * *

 “I was right.” Sybil muttered to Maria and Alexander across the dinner table. “He's not interested in the women.” She sighed, taking a bite of her food to cover up the chatter. She knew if Miss Manners- they'd since learned her name was Jaclyn- caught them talking, they'd be reprimanded.

“How do you know?” Maria whispered.

“He told me so. He'll probably tell you soon.” She sighed. “He needs decoys so to speak. Women willing to stay in the Selection to make his father happy.”

Alexander swallowed hard, unsure of what this meant for the entire process. He focused his gaze on his food; a true luxury. He only ate when he could afford to buy some bread or fruit from the market, which was maybe every three to four days. Here, though, there was no shortage of food, and it was not only abundant, it was delicious, too.

The sudden realization hit him; he was a Three by law now. He wouldn't have food so abundant nor so delicious as the palace, but he'd never be hungry again. He felt a wash of uncertainty. When he went back to regular life… everything would be different. Completely shifted, his entire world thrown off its fragile axis.

He could hear Maria and Sybil still gossiping, seemingly about which of the boys they thought the Prince might choose, but he also _didn't_ hear them. His mind was clouded. He found his gaze slipping upwards towards the ceiling again, looking at the intricate designs. He wondered how they'd gotten those designs on the ceiling like that. Who had done it?

Maria shook him out of his trance. “Hey, Jaclyn is glaring at you, ya might wanna turn back to your food.” She advised, and Alexander did so, feeling a wave of nausea overtake him for a moment and then fade.


	8. Versus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date #2 & Comparisons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my exhaustion after musical, I uploaded the WRONG CHAPTER! I'm so sorry about that!

John slowly approached the door to Alexander’s room. He'd been by not long ago and spoken to Alexander’s butlers to schedule a date and now it was time. His sister had been a bit hesitant to support the idea, but he hoped afterwards she'd come around.

He knocked tentatively on the door. The door swung open as if whoever had opened it had been waiting eagerly.

“Ah! Your Highness!” One of Alexander’s butlers, with a heavy French accent, answered. He seemed to be using his body to block most of the doorway. “Um, ah, you're here for Alexander, yes?”

“Yes.” Laurens said, feeling a strange sense of unsurety about the question. He tried to lean around to look past the butler, who was effectively blocking the doorway.

“One moment, please, _excusez-moi_.” The butler carefully but swiftly shut the door. He could hear a bit of commotion from inside the room, and tried to glance around the openings to see what was happening.

The door flung open once more and standing in the doorway was Alexander, in a fresh, crisp suit. Behind him, his two butlers stood anxiously.

“Hello, your Highness.” Alexander said with a clearly more practiced bow. Behind him, his butlers almost bounced with pride.

“Shall we go?” John extended an arm to Alexander, which he took hesitantly.

“Yes.” Alexander said, with forced convection. John led him by the arm to the stairs. They walked in silence up every story until they reached the roof.

“The view from the rooftop gardens is fantastic. I thought you might enjoy it?” John said, nervousness dripping into his tone.

“Yeah- uh, yes.” Alexander stammered. His entire face had flushed red, and John had to hold back a small laugh at the sight.

He guided Alexander to the far corner of the rooftop garden, where a lone picnic table sat, as if it was waiting for them. They settled in on opposite sides.

“We never got the chance to have a full conversation. You said you live alone?”

Alexander shifted. “I don't think that's quite a first-date level question.”

John laughed. “I do love your sense of humor, at least.”

“But, yes, I do.” Alexander finally answered.

“That's unusual.” Laurens mumbled. Especially for Sixes, families tended to be rather close.

“I know.” He shifted again, and Laurens sensed his nervousness.

“Siblings can be annoying anyway.” He tried to joke. “Martha has not stopped bothering me since this Selection began.” He sighed.

“She seems nice.” Alexander said quietly. He seemed to shut down, and John scrambled to save what conversation they'd been having.

“Has the palace grown on you at all?” He asked. “I know it's… different.”

“Um,” another shift, “my butlers are very friendly, they've made me feel much more at home.”

“That's good. It was a bit distressing to learn you weren't comfortable here.” John said honestly.

“I'm… still not, not really.” Alexander admitted quietly. “But that's besides the point.” He waved a hand as if to dismiss his own discomfort.

“Do you have any friends back home?” John asked, grasping for some kind of small talk. Something less uncomfortable for both of them.

“Yes.” Alexander smiled, and it was enchanting. “I have a friend named Eliza. She kind of is the only reason I'm here right now.”

“Well, I'll remember to write a thank you letter.” John smirked. He wanted to make Alexander smile again; it was so beautiful. “What's her full name?”

“Uh, Elizabeth.” Alexander fidgeted.

“Elizabeth…?”

“Schuyler.” He finally finished, and Laurens understood why he'd been so hesitant.

“Oh! Her father has worked with my father in the past.”

“Yes, they're, uh, a very well known family.” He had a pleading look in his eye, and Laurens tried to understand.

It clicked suddenly. _Please don't ask why a Six is friends with a Two._ It would be a fair question, but it was clear Alexander didn't want to talk about it.

“Yes, indeed. You said she's the reason you're here? How so?” He leaned forward on the picnic table a bit.

“Well,” he sighed, not unhappily, “she pushed me to fill out the form and enter in the first place.” He shrugged, “and she encouraged me to stay, even when I said I wasn't sure I wanted to.”

“I definitely have much to thank her for then.” He smiled, which earned him a smile from Alexander. He couldn't help but compare the way Alexander looked at him to the way Kinloch looked at him. They were two completely different people, two entirely separate entities, and yet their eyes both made John’s heart speed up a bit.

How could he separate the way he felt? They both were so different, and still he couldn't seem to stop the lines from blurring. He didn't want to compare them, it didn't seem fair to hold two different people against each other. He wanted to separate them. They were two different galaxies in his orbit, and both took his breath away. He sighed, trying not to make it obvious how conflicted he felt inside. No matter how confused his emotions were, he wanted his date with Alexander to go over well.

It dawned on him then just how complicated this entire Selection ordeal would be.

“You mentioned the view.” Alexander said, shifting to stand up. “I'm curious.” Bold, he rose and walked to the edge of the roof. John silently followed, feeling the gravity of Alexander’s presence drawing him in.

“Whoa.” A small breath of awe escaped Alexander’s lips with the statement. John understood his amazement.

From atop the palace, the world outside didn't look quite so bleak. In fact, much to the contrary. It looked vivid; greens and oranges across the ground, warm blue skies above. The clouds, though a bit ominous from any other perspective, looked wispy. Like cotton candy spread across the sky, especially with the blue backlighting.

It was stunning.

“Okay, you weren't kidding.” Alexander said with a slight chuckle.

“It's beautiful.” John said, resting his elbows on the edge and leaning out towards the sky.

Alexander turned to him and smiled warmly “Yeah, it is.”


	9. Superficial Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parlour Room Gossip & Date #3 & Jobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp... here's this chapter again, but in the right order this time!

“So?” Maria leaned in excitedly as Alexander said down next her the next day in the parlor. He sighed as he sank into the couch.

“What?” He said, knowing exactly what she was asking about.

“Your _date_.” She said aggressively, accenting her point by smacking him-lightfully- on the arm. “How was your date with the Prince?” She leaned forward even more, clearly invested.

“Well,” Alexander sifted through his memory of the date, picking and choosing details to disclose. “We went to the rooftop gardens. The view is stunning.”

“I don't care about the view, what was he like?” Maria said petulantly, scooting forward on her seat. Alexander thought, for a moment, she might fall off the couch if she leaned forward anymore.

“He was nice. He thinks I'm funny.” Alexander said concisely. He wanted, for whatever reason, to keep the details to himself. If only for a little while longer, the memories were entirely his. He figured that once he finally got sent home, his escapades as a part of the Selection- a historical one at that- would be a story he'd tell his grandchildren. Until then, however, he wanted to hold the stories close to himself.

“C’mon, Alex, that can't be all!” Maria elbowed him, a little rougher than her previous physical attempts to make him talk. Sybil joined them, speaking as she sat down.

“What're we talking about?” She said, with clear interest.

“Alexander’s date with the Prince!” Maria practically squealed. Sybil rolled her eyes, but was smiling fondly.

“So?” Sybil asked, placing her hands in her lap and looking like a proper lady. “What was he like?”

“God, you two are too similar.” Alexander groaned, causing the two girls laughed. “He was nice.” Alexander repeated what he'd told Maria. “He thinks I'm funny.”

“Ooh, that's good. A sense of humor is the second thing someone is attracted to- appearance being the first, but you've got that in the bag anyway.” Sybil said with a dismissive wave and a slight pause a bit before the compliment.

“What?” Alexander felt a bit dumbstruck. He supposed he'd been told he's handsome before, but only ever by the Schuylers, and he could convince himself they were only saying it out of obligation.

“I mean, you have to know you're cute, right?” Sybil said as if it was obvious. “Like,” she gestured to his hair, “the long hair suits you. And you pull off the suit, despite probably never wearing one before. And you may not think so, but you radiate confidence, like a beacon. It's attractive.” She said factually.

He didn't know how to respond. If asked, he would've come to the conclusion that he looked out of place and that it must've shown. Confidence couldn't be farther the truth of the matter. “Uh…”

“The Prince likes you, face it.” Maria cut in, seeming to empathize with his plight. She probably felt the same way; out of place. “You were what, his… second date? That's significant.”

“I dunno.” Alexander shrugged again, trying to push off the subject.

“Anyway,” Sybil said, picking up the cue, glancing around, “Thomas is missing.” She said suspiciously, frowning. “I don't like the look of that.”

* * *

“Hello, your Highness.” Mister Thomas bowed elegantly as John approached.

“Hello, Mister Thomas.” John said in greeting. Thomas seemed nice enough, and Martha had encouraged him to try some of the more viable options. Mister Thomas was one of those. He was handsome, but in a different way to Kinloch or Alexander. While they had some kind of under the skin beauty, his seemed more superficial. There was nothing _wrong_ about his appearance, no, definitely not. Eye candy, in a way. John offered an arm and Mister Thomas gracefully looped his arm into it.

John lead him by the arm to the garden, the same place he'd taken Kinloch. When he was considering where to go for this date, he'd immediately crossed the rooftop gardens off his list. He didn't really know why, but it felt wrong. The rooftop gardens were very… very _Alexander_ and it didn't seem fair to put Mister Thomas at such a disadvantage.

“What sort of… job have you pursued back home?” John asked tentatively, doing his best to hold some kind of amicable conversation between them. He had a feeling he already knew the answer, though. Most Twos were models, actors, or famous musicians.

“I act.” Mister Thomas said concisely, looking at John with a flirtatious smile. It was nothing like the radiant smile of Alexander nor the steady one of Kinloch. “You may have seen me on screen from time to time.”

“Perhaps.” John said ambiguously as he dug through his memory of the movies and television shows he'd seen for someone who looked like Mister Thomas. He couldn't recall, but wasn't going to say anything. He had a feeling that it would kill the date if he said so.

“I started out as an extra. But only after a few times appearing as an extra, I was picked up by an agent who got me a leading role.” Mister Thomas paused, looking for a reaction. “He said I have natural talent that he could see even though I was in the background for my first appearances.” He said, clearly trying to brag. He wanted John to be impressed. He wasn't, though. It was typical for Twos to easily find their way into the industry.

But, to his good graces, he kept up the façade that he was impressed. “That's quite an accomplishment.” Mister Thomas continued speaking immediately after.

“Jobs just started rolling in after that.” He laughed, but it was disingenuous, “I had to turn down a lot of them! There were just too many!”

 _Too many jobs_ , John thought bitterly, _he doesn't know the first thing about too many jobs, I wish I could just turn down some of mine. No, sorry I don't feel like being a prince today, I have enough on my plate._ He couldn't hold back a slight laugh at the thought, earning him a look from Mister Thomas.

“Yes, that truly is a problem.”


	10. First Impressions Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Me Gusta & Engaged & By Numbers & Panic Attack

“I don't like him.”

Martha sighed, exasperated with her brother, who was laying flat across his bed, his head dangling over the edge and his short hair hanging down. She flopped down, joining him. They hung upside down off the other side of the bed together. When they were kids they'd lay like this all the time and swing their legs around- they had to do _something_ , they were getting stir crazy trapped within the palace walls.

“You went on one date with him.” She said sternly.

“And,” John went on, “I don't like him.” He said again, more persistent this time.

“You can't send him home, though.” Martha said pointedly.

“He's too well-liked by the public.” John agreed with a tired nod.

“Besides, one date can't possibly be enough to justify deciding to send him home.” She frowned and looked at him sternly.

“One date was enough for me to know I liked Kinloch and you didn't question that. One date was enough to know I liked Alexander, yet you question that.” He pointed out. “Seems like you're picking favorites.”

“Am not, that's for you to do.” Martha joked.

“ You'd be surprised how much one date can do. You wouldn't know, you've already been engaged.” He said.

“Don't remind me,” she sighed, “I hate that I get no choice and you get thirty-six choices.”

“I'm still limited by Father’s approval.” John pointed out. It was only partially true, he knew no matter what his father said or did, he wasn't picking one of the girls.

“I'm limited to the highest bidder.” Martha said with a humourless laugh. “I don't even _want_ to get married.”

“What do you mean?” John shifted, sitting up a bit on his elbows to look closer at Martha and gauge her reaction. She sat up with him.

“I'm… not interested. In romance, I mean. I'd rather just rule as a solo Queen.” She smiled as if entertained by the thought. “But Prince David is nice enough, I suppose.” She shrugged. Prince David Ramsey was her betrothed, but the way she talked about him didn't seem to indicate that. “He's handsome and kind. I just don't… want romance.”

John frowned for a moment, not quite understanding what his sister meant. But he shrugged, “It’s your life.”

“It's not, that's the point. You don't get it, do you?”

“No.”

“You know how…” she paused, “you know how you have no interest in romancing girls? I have no interest in romancing anyone.” The comparison helped things click for him, and he nodded, truly understanding this time. “And I don't get to choose, I have to marry Prince David. It's… mandatory.” She sighed, laying back down and hanging her head over the edge of the bed.

“Does he seem interested in you?” John asked, somewhat awkwardly flopping back down onto the bed.

“As much as any husband would be in his _arranged_ wife.”

* * *

 “Does he seem interested in you?” Eliza questioned Alexander over the phone.

“As much as a prince would be in a Six.” Alexander shrugged, too tired to be concerned with such frivolous questions, and too tired to realize Eliza couldn't see him shrug.

“Don't talk like that.” She scolded.

“Like what?”

“By numbers.” She said bluntly. “As if everyone is defined by a number. You're not just a Six, you're Alexander Hamilton.” Her voice came strong, even through the phone. “You of all people should know this.”

“And why would I?” Alexander said, bordering on defensive. “It's easy for you to say, you're a Two. It's easy for you to say numbers don't matter, you've never been lowered to your number.”

“Alexander…”

“No.” He said, suddenly too tired to even carry on such a stressful conversation. “I've gotta go, Liz.”

“Alexander.” She said, more sternly this time.

“Goodnight.”

A heavy sigh. “Goodnight, Alexander.” The line clicked off. Alexander sighed and looked down at the phone screen dismayed. He set the phone down gently on the dresser.

“Are you ready for bed, Mister Alexander?” Lafayette creeped out from around the corner of the room, clearly having been eavesdropping but not wanting it to be too obvious.

“Yes…” he said quietly, looking back at the phone, regretting what he'd said and how'd he'd snapped like that. He stood up and looked to Lafayette, who frowned.

“Are you… alright, Mister Alexander?” He asked tentatively, gently lifting the blankets on the bed to unmake the bed- a practice Alexander would never understand. Every morning, Lafayette would make the bed, and every night he would peel the blankets back up.

“Yes.” He fell into the mattress, almost immediately melting into the soft cushion. He hardly registered Lafayette tucking the blanket around him.

“Miss Maria.” Jaclyn said sharply, smacking a hand down on the table. “Pay attention.” She turned to return to her lesson on etiquette, but stopped again, without turning back around. “You too, Mister Alexander.” Alexander ceased snickering.

“You all must be conscious of the lowering number of you still present,” and they were; they were down to fourteen already. The Prince had gone on one date with each of the original thirty-six Selected, and had sent home twenty-one. Only six ladies- Miss Catherine, Miss Sybil, Miss Maria, Miss Peggy, Miss Martha, and Miss Anna- and eight men- Mister Thomas, Mister Kinloch, Mister Benedict, Mister John André, Mister Gouverneur, Mister Samuel, Mister Aaron Burr, and himself- remained standing.

It was almost too surreal to realize how narrowed down their group had become. How long had it been? One, two months?

He realized suddenly that he was being swallowed by the walls around him. His breathing sped up. He was being consumed by this place, these people. His vision blurred. He was losing himself in the cottony mattress. His senses dulled. He had left himself in one of the fancy, carved drawers where his butlers- _butlers_?- stored his suits. He thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but wasn't sure. He felt like he was drowning in the quilted tablecloths, the ornate china, the crystal glasses.

He vaguely registered hitting the floor, hard and sudden.


	11. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Removing & Remission

“Hmm… cut Miss Anna, you said she's nice but can't seem accept that you aren't picking a girl, right?” Martha waited for her brother to affirm. “Okay so cut her,” she took the slip of paper with Anna Smith’s name on it and removed it from the congregation of names, “I don't think you should cut any other girls, there's so few left after that. I think you should balance it out- fifty-fifty. So dad doesn't get suspicious.”

They were in Martha’s room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with pieces of paper with the names of each of the remaining Selected in a pile of names. Martha had suggested going about it this way so they could keep better track of who was staying and who was going and how many Selected would remain. She cut the slips of paper and wrote the names down and then laid them out for them to judge. It was a crucial part of the process to keep track of such things as numbers.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” John sighed, grateful he had his sister guiding him through this; he didn't understand the intricacies of dating, let alone in the environment of the Selection. “I think I'll send home Mister Benedict, too.” He picked up Benedict Arnold’s paper, examining it for a moment, and set it next to Anna’s. “He's not bad, but I don't think… we aren't compatible.” John shrugged.

“Samuel?” Martha asked, holding up Samuel Seabury’s paper for John to see.

“He's a bit of an ass.” John said as he took the slip of paper and set it with the other two. “One more…” he mumbled to the pile of remaining names, flitting his gaze over each name.

“I know you like him, but is Alexander really fit for this?” Martha said softly, not wanting to offend her brother, but trying to bring some reality to the table.

“Mister Gouverner.” John said, completely ignoring his sister’s question He retrieved the last piece of paper and setting it with the other names of those who were being sent home.

“You have your Elite now.” Martha said, deciding to set aside the issue once again. She gestured to the ten slips of paper that still remained- five girls and five boys, the even fifty-fifty split Martha had suggested.

“Yeah… shit.” He mumbled, staring intensely at the names.

“A lot more nerve wracking when you're faced with it, isn't it?” She said, spreading out the slips of paper between her fingers. She read over the names herself, judging the Elite.

“Thank you for helping me, I couldn't have…” he shuffled some slips of paper around. “Done it without you.” He admitted, feeling a rush of embarrassment at the confession.

“Aw, love you too.” Martha smiled cheesily and threw her arms around her brother, maybe just the littlest bit rough, and maybe just the littlest bit on purpose.

“Yeah, yeah,” John groaned, “now get off me, God.” He shrugged her off, and they both laughed.

* * *

The ceiling was bright. After… _whatever_ had happened. That was his first thought, the ceiling was bright. The next was: _where am I?_ His head was pounding, loud and heavy.

“Ungh,” he grunted, trying to sit up. Before he could, hands held him- gently, but firmly- down.

“How are you feeling?” A clinical voice asked. He thought about it; how _was_ he feeling? He supposed he was fine, but then his head pounded again.

“Dizzy… bright… room is… bright.” He found it difficult to string together proper sentences. His thoughts were jumbled. Where was he? Who was talking to him? There was a shuffling sound and then the lights dimmed. “What… happened?”

“You passed out, hit your head pretty hard on a table. Do you have a history of unconscious episodes?” The tone was almost accusatory.

“No.” He managed to make the one word sound convincing and strong.

“Okay, well those around you said you looked like you were having a panic attack. You went pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

“No… no, I don't think so.” He frowned, thinking about it briefly.

The voice hummed a note of understanding. “A fluke then.” The door- where was the door?- opened and shut gently. In an attempt to orient himself, Alexander glanced in the direction of the sound to see the door.

“Ah, your Highness!” The voice- he'd come to the conclusion it was probably a nurse of some sort- said.

“How is he?” The Prince spoke quietly.

“Awake.” Alexander mumbled, not liking the way they seemed to be talking around him instead of to him. The Prince seemed startled.

“How are you feeling, Mister Alexander?” The Prince asked formally. Why did everyone ask that?

“Fine.” He mumbled.

“Do…” the Prince paused, “do you wish to return home?”

“No.” Alexander managed. “No, I'm fine.”

“They said you passed out while at etiquette lessons- Jaclyn said you must've been overwhelmed by it all-”

“I am. A bit.” He revised. “But no, I'm fine.” He insisted, trying to shake his head to show his insistence.

“Okay.” The Prince said quietly. “There's something you should be made aware of, if you do plan to stay.”

He was being sent home, he knew it. His time had finally come and it was a long time coming.

“The number of Selected has been narrowed down to the final ten.” The Prince paused, and Alexander was positive he was going to say: _and, I'm sorry, but you aren't one of them._ But rather he said, “You are one of the Elite.”

His world stopped turning, if only for a split second. He felt like he'd started this entire process over again, like when his name was announced as one of the Selected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is the end.
> 
> of part one, of course.
> 
> Part two coming soon <3


End file.
